Part 10 (2/2)

CHAPTER 11.

The next morning dawned sunny and warm, a moment of Indian summer. Dawn had opened the sitting room windows a few inches to air out the inn a little bit. Tess pulled back the curtain and felt the light, fresh air as she looked out at the inn's wide driveway. Tess noticed that the corps of reporters had thinned out a bit. The public's appet.i.te for sensational news stories was insatiable, but their attention span seemed to be ever diminis.h.i.+ng. Thank heaven, Tess thought. The fewer developments there were to report, the sooner the reporters would vanish. Those who remained were now a.s.sembling outside in a desultory fas.h.i.+on.

As she looked out the window, Tess saw Jake's white van, flanked on both sides and across the top with closed extension ladders, pull up at the end of the walkway to the front door.

”Erny,” she called out. ”Uncle Jake's here.”

The front door opened and Jake came into the vestibule ”Hey, Tess,” he said. ”Is the kid ready?”

”He's getting his stuff,” she said.

”What happened with Bosworth?” he asked.

Looking at Jake, Tess thought of the chief's suggestion that their father might have been her sister's a.s.sailant. It made her feel sick to her stomach. She did not want to imagine Jake's reaction if he heard about this theory that the chief had posited. ”Nothing. Really. It was a complete waste of time. Where are you two headed today?”

”I'm gonna take him out to the Whitman farm. It's a great place for a kid to run around. He can go exploring while I finish the trim on those third-floor windows.”

Erny appeared in the hallway wearing his sweats.h.i.+rt and tugging Leo by his leash.

Jake frowned at the sight of the dog.

”You said I could bring him,” Erny reminded him.

Jake shook his head. ”I did? I must have been drinking. All right. Come on. See ya later, Tess.”

”Have fun,” she said to Erny.

As soon as they were out of sight, Tess picked up her bag and pulled her own jacket from the hook in the hallway. She drew in a deep breath to try to calm her jittery stomach. She told herself she was going to sail past those reporters as if they were invisible. She couldn't hide inside this morning. Erny's sleepy suggestion about a friend had given her an idea and she needed to pursue it. She kept her gaze straight ahead as the reporters, galvanized by the sight of her, began to shout out her name.

Ironically, unlike the Stone Hill Inn, the offices of the Stone Hill Record were subdued. A receptionist greeted Tess with a pleasant nonchalance when she asked to see Channing Morris. ”Who shall I say is asking?” the receptionist asked politely. It was only when Tess said her name that the girl's eyes widened and she rang the publishers office and spoke in a low, hurried voice.

She hung up the receiver and looked up at Tess. ”He'll be out in just a minute. You can have a seat,” she said, indicating the waiting area of the newspaper's modest office. Tess thanked her and walked over to the low-slung leather couch that sat beneath a wall of framed photos. They told a story in pictures of the newspaper's history. Most were photos of men dressed in banker's-style suits, shaking one another's hands and beaming avuncularly. The exception was a stern, square-jawed woman with snapping black eyes who was in the center of many of the pictures. Tess was studying the gallery when Chan Morris, handsome and casual-looking in an open-collared s.h.i.+rt, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his well-worn chinos, emerged into the waiting area.

”Miss DeGraff,” he said. ”You looking at my journalistic forebears there?”

Tess nodded. ”You had a female publisher, I see.”

”My grandmother,” said Chan.

”Wow. Looks like she was kind of a feminist pioneer,” said Tess.

”Oh yeah. No knitting and cookie baking for her. She was as tough as nails. But she taught me the newspaper business.”

Tess smiled. ”I guess you didn't have much choice.”

Chan shrugged. ”Luckily, I liked it. So, what brings you here? I thought you were avoiding the media entirely.”

”I am. I was,” Tess admitted. ”But I need a favor.”

”Come through,” he said. ”Tell me what I can do for you.”

She followed him back into the paper's warren of offices. ”I want to look at all the articles from the paper concerning my sister's abduction. I need the local viewpoint. I looked on the Interet, but you're only catalogued for the last five years.”

”I know,” said Chan sheepishly. ”It's been a nightmare with all the news organizations covering this story.”

”Are the back issues available?” Tess asked.

”Down these stairs,” said Chan, indicating a bas.e.m.e.nt staircase. ”We have them in the archives. It's a nuisance to look through them, but yes, we do have them.” Chan raked his fingers through his soft black hair. ”Perhaps we can help each other out. How about just a few words of reaction from you about all this?”

”I'd rather not say too much,” said Tess.

Ignoring her reluctance, Chan reached into his s.h.i.+rt pocket and pulled out a small spiral-topped pad and a pen. ”Just tell me how you felt when you heard the governor's announcement?”

Tess took a deep breath. ”Shocked,” she said truthfully.

Chan scribbled on the pad. ”You didn't have any doubts, all these years.”

”I believed,” she said carefully, ”that the courts and the police had done their jobs. That the matter was settled.”

”And now?”

”And now...it would seem that the case has to be reopened.”

Chan wrote down her response and looked at her quizzically. ”You sound very detached,” he said. ”Almost as if it wasn't personal.”

”Oh, it's very personal,” she said. ”Are you finished?”

”One more question? If you don't mind my asking, what are you looking for in the archives?”

Tess was not about to tell him her ”accomplice” theory. She did not want people to know that her search was motivated by the hunch of her ten-year-old son. She managed a vague excuse. ”Well, naturally, I have questions and I am looking for answers. Not that I think I can find what the police couldn't, but I have to at least see if I can find something to jog my memory. Just for my own peace of mind.”

”Jog your memory about that night,” he said.

”Yes, exactly,” she said. ”Can I have a look now?”

”Sure.” He seemed to accept her motive. He replaced his pad in his pocket and led the way toward the bas.e.m.e.nt staircase. It crossed Tess's mind, as she accompanied him down the steps, that he wasn't a very aggressive reporter. They came out into a room that looked like a low-ceilinged library, lined with shelves, which were piled high with papers. Tess frowned, looking at the towers of papers around her. She had expected microfilm, at least.

Chan saw her expression of dismay. ”Sorry...I just don't have the manpower to get these back issues catalogued.”

”How do you find anything?” she asked.

Chan sighed. ”It takes a while. Uh, the years you want would be over in that far corner,” he said.

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